


where there's life, there's hope

by lux_et_astra



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gallifrey, Gallifreyan Geography, Genocide, Heavy Angst, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug, The Time War, excessive use of twin symbolism, gallifrey grief, it's the destruction of gallifrey, the doctor uses no pronouns, uhhh, where there's life there's hope, you get to guess which time!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:27:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lux_et_astra/pseuds/lux_et_astra
Summary: where there's life, there's hope.or, the doctor and the tardis take one last trip to gallifrey.
Relationships: The Doctor & Gallifrey, The Doctor & The Doctor's TARDIS
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	where there's life, there's hope

the doctor is sat in the doorway of the tardis, legs dangling down into the expanse of the time vortex.

the master would complain that it’s a terrible place to park.

gallifrey - just another broken planet, now - lies dormant, half a universe away.

the doctor has seen so many planets destroyed. failed to save them, witnessed their destruction, called it _tragic_ and a _waste._

(gallifreyans are just another species, now. but that’s not true, because - the time lords came from the doctor. the genes running through time lords came from the doctor. the entire civilisation of the time lords came from the doctor.)

(the destruction of the entire civilisation of the time lords came from the doctor, too.)

and it’s gallifrey that the doctor has returned to a hundred times - gallifrey that has a way of creeping into dreams - gallifrey that stretches on for thousands of miles of dust, and red sand, and mountains split in two.

the twin peaks of solace and solitude, broken and split.

and between solace and solitude are the ruins of the citadel. (the desecrated bodies of the time lords, encased in scraps of metal - the desecrated bodies with the genetic pattern of the doctor repeating over and over in every cell of their bodies.)

it’s the sight of gallifrey that never leaves the doctor’s mind. 

the tardis refuses to take anyone to gallifrey, now; she has seen too much pain there. the tardis belonged to gallifrey once, too, and she is endlessly grieved by the sight of the rolling red dunes with no children playing amongst them, the sight of arcadia broken down worse than it was during the war, the sight of the academy at the foot of the four-named mountain, devoid of young gallifreyans.

the doctor folds into a pose, easy as breathing. knees pulled into chest, arms wrapped around the knees, face at once unreadable and broken by pain. the view of the infinite time vortex vanishes as the doors to the tardis slam shut, and the doctor scrambled back, shocked into standing.

the tardis rumbles, unhappily.

“yes, yes, old girl,” the doctor mumbles, running a hand over the roundels on the wall, and leaning heavily on the railing.

the tardis hums, dimming the lights, and the doctor smiles wearily.

“of course, sexy. we don’t have to go running off.”

the thousands of years weigh heavily on the doctor, and on the tardis, too. the both of them are getting old - and there’s no one the doctor would rather grow old with.

it’s been a tradition between the two of them for centuries - whenever the doctor can’t sleep, the tardis will dim the lights, and the little sleep achieved will be aided by the strongest telepathic connection left in the universe.

this time, though, the doctor does not try to fall asleep.

“if i promise this is the last time, will you take us home once more, old friend?” the doctor pleads quietly, tapping out the coordinates for home.

the tardis rumbles dangerously, and the doctor winces.

“it really will be the last time,” the doctor offers, “i can’t stand to see our planet in pain anymore. i don’t want… to be faced with that.”

a deep breath.

“but i need to see them off.”

the tardis is silent for a long time. (what’s time, to a time lord? the doctor wouldn’t know.)

eventually, she gives a high whine of assent, and the doctor grins, and flips a switch, pulls a lever.

the tardis goes screaming into space-time, hurtling past shooting stars and burning a path through the sky.

she’s being very dramatic, the doctor thinks, clutching at the railing again.

then again, she has plentiful reason.

the both of them wheel through the sky, until the tardis lands with a spiteful bump, tossing the doctor against the console.

“now that was rude,” the doctor scolds, and stumbles to the door, hesitant to open it.

the tardis does it herself, swinging the door open, baring them to the wasteland that is gallifrey.

the tardis always parks in the same spot - perfect view of the citadel, orange and red sand blowing in a dust storm, miles of barren land stretching out between the pair of them and any remains to be found.

the sand, the sky, the entire vista - it’s all a bitter red.

(it’s _red_ because it’s drenched in the blood of our people, echoes in the doctor’s mind. the blood of _his_ people, the doctor corrects.)

the doctor steps out, the twin suns bestowing a scorching heat over the entire planet. gone is the rich blue sky that should be seen in the day - gallifrey is forever burning, now, sand and dust colouring the sky a burnt orange, and stinging the face of any brave traveller.

gallifrey was beautiful, once. the doctor could ramble about the silver-tipped trees that burn in the morning sun, about the twin moons and twin suns, and the twin snow-capped mountains - but those moons no longer hang in the sky. those mountains stand, craggy and split in two, so that the citadel is partly cradled in shards of rock, and partly buried under them.

the doctor walks forward, gaze fixed on the ruins of the citadel, on the pretty patterns the smoke makes as it winds upwards, into the dusty sky. each step is torture - the heat makes it difficult to keep moving, the sand stings at any inch of exposed skin, and the sight that greets the doctor’s eyes is that of hopelessness.

the doctor sinks to the ground, unable to continue. the tardis warbles tremulously from just a few metres back, and the doctor can feel her so _clearly_ , because there is nothing and no-one left in the universe to feel.

the sentient chairs are smashed to pieces, the matrix is destroyed beyond recognition, and there are no time lords at all. no mind to connect with, no whispery idea of _contact_. 

the tardis and her doctor are all that is left, their own binary system, orbiting each other because there’s no stronger gravity than the broken cry of a lonely telepath. gone is the gallifreyan hive-mind, and gone is one of the doctor’s hearts, crying out forever for family and friends lost to an inescapable fate.

an inescapable fate the doctor escaped.

and as the doctor breaks down, introducing the first drops of water to the gallifreyan ground since the war, even as the doctor recognises that there is no _hope_ , no coming back from this - a tiny shoot of green draws the eye.

the doctor scrapes sand away from it, unburying the fragile stem, brushing off the quivering leaves.

and there it is - one single, brave plant, as lost and lonely as the doctor is.

unbidden, a smile springs to the doctor’s face. the tardis beeps a cheerful tune, and suddenly the barren and broken landscape hardly seems bleak at all.

the doctor dashes back to the tardis, laughing, and spins around in the console room, weeping tears of misery and joy.

“that’s that, old girl,” the doctor whispers, frantically tapping in coordinates and resting a hand on the lever. “we can leave gallifrey in peace, now.”

the doctor has lived for too many years, and if there is one thing the doctor has learnt to be true against all odds, it is this:

where there’s life, there’s hope.

**Author's Note:**

> the game is to guess which doctor it is.
> 
> hope you enjoyed!  
> -lux


End file.
